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Dog vs Man.
“My Jack Russell Terrier is smarter than your honor student.” This is the bumper sticker that I saw on my drive home from work on Friday. You’ve probably seen a few bumper stickers in your day, haven’t you? I’ve seen a few. Most of them are pretty benign. Some of them promote a cause or a politician that I don’t support. Still fewer make a statement that rubs my calm demeanor raw. This bumper sticker was one of the later.
“John, you’re too easily upset if a silly bumper sticker gets your motor running.” Yes, even if you – the phantom reader – are a figment of my imagination… that doesn’t make you any less right. (Doctor, the patient is ready for his medication!) Ah, I just can’t help it. I see bumper stickers as a small reflection of the owner; a little sign for the masses that says, “this is who I am… this is what I want you to think of me.” I see that bumper sticker and I see a sign that says, “I hate your child, and all the little children like your child.” I know that not everyone likes kids. Many people just don’t have the patience for children. At the same time, kids are fellow human beings – people like you and me. The secondary message I see in this bumper sticker is “I like dogs more than people.” So o.k., some people have a hard time with other people. Cynics see people as a repository for all that is evil in the world. I can see where these people would find it easier to relate to an animal than another person. An animal won’t argue with you. It won’t tell you, “you are wrong.” It won’t call you names.
Some people don’t like kids or other people. I understand. I don’t understand when this became some thing to brag about – something to aspire to.
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Reflections.
I think of my self as sentimental. By this I mean that I tend to be reflective. I think about the past; the good, the bad and the ugly. I come across objects that I associate with events and I am swept away by memories and emotions from the past. Why should you care? I don’t really know. I thought it might explain some things…
I was going through my briefcase this afternoon, looking for a pen, when I came across a note card. It was the kind of card you would see on an arrangement from a florist. I turned it over in my hand, recognizing it before I saw the words written on the front: “Congratulations! You’re a daddy again! Love, Cheryl.” On the back of the card I had written a date – “6/11/2002.” If that were true, Beth would have a brother or sister right now. As it turns out, it didn’t work out.
I put the card back in by briefcase, saving it for another day.
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Life is a series of choices.
I know this. You know this. We also know that there is a difference between knowing and doing. Case in point (you just knew there had to be one): TONIGHT.
I like sleep, and I think sleep likes me. We get along famously, but occasionally things come between us. When this happens sleep gets angry with me. He starts to come by when he isn’t wanted. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to upset my life long friend, don’t you? I have my weaknesses though. First and foremost, there’s football: prime time, week night football games – oh the humanity! So along comes this other friend of mine: the NFL football season. I am suddenly and unexpectedly presented with the opportunity to see a game – live – at my local NFL football venue. The only catch is it’s a prime time, week night football game! I go and I will be up way past my normal bed time. Tomorrow is another work day – a day to get up early, do the commute, and earn my pay for eight hours of the day. Life is a bitch when sleep gets angry with me on a work day.
Do I go to the game and let it come between me and my friend sleep? Alas, my answer is no.
Damn choices!